


Uncovered

by DonTheRock



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Coming Out, Homophobia, M/M, Romance, Summer Love, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-06 07:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonTheRock/pseuds/DonTheRock
Summary: When 14 year-old Jonah Beck is sent to stay with his grandparents in the middle of nowhere, he assumes it will be a tedious and boring July. This changes when he meets Walker, a charming boy with issues of his own that he's hiding from. With the belief that they've been brought together at the worst possible time, will these two be able to push through the barriers that keep them from being together?





	1. Chapter 1

**Jonah's POV**  
  
  


I sit in the backseat of the rumbling car as it accelerates down the gravel road. This is going to be my home for the next month: empty prairies of nothing but grass. My parents wanted me to get outside and do something this year, and since I missed the deadline to sign up for the ultimate Frisbee camp again, they decided that I should come out to Oklahoma to stay with my grandparents, because, as my parents say, they get lonely and would enjoy my company. I haven't been to their house since I was 11, but I remember it being a long bungalow in the middle of nowhere, with it's only neighbours being the twelve houses that line the dirt road that extends out then loops back on itself in less than a kilometre. In other words, I'm going to be isolated from all of my friends with nothing to do for all of July.

To get through the long drive, I've been texting my friends, them trying to convince me that it will be fun being away from everyone in Shadyside and not just an extrovert's nightmare.

 **Andi:**  You'll be out in nature. It'll be calming.

 **Jonah:**  It's just a bunch of grass and some trees. 

 **Cyrus:**  You can get to know your grandparents better.

 **Jonah:**  What is there to get to know? They're just boring old people who are stuck in the past and still refuse to get a TV. 

They only got the internet last year, which I'm so thankful for, because, otherwise, I'd be about to use so much data over the next month. 

 **Buffy:**  Well, maybe you'll meet some people.

 **Andi:**  Ooh! Like a girl!

 **Cyrus:**  Or a boy!

 **Jonah:**  There are only twelve houses within miles, and I'm pretty sure they're all owned by other old people. 

Besides, the last thing I'd want to do is meet some boy who I can't get out of my head, and then have my grandparents find out that I'm bi. I have no idea how they'd react, but from what they say when they come over, they seem like the traditional type of seniors who likely wouldn't be too happy with me liking a boy. I'm not about to take a chance in letting them find out anything about my romantic life, considering they'll be my only source of food and shelter.

 **Andi:**  Darn. Well, you can text or video-chat us any time. 

 **Jonah:**  I'm counting on that.

"Jonah, honey," my mom says from the front seat, "put away your phone. We're almost there."

 **Jonah:**  Got to go.

 **Andi:**  Okay. Try to have fun!

I smile and tuck my phone into my pocket, then look up to watch out my window as the we turn at a thin wall of trees that barely covers the details of a building peeking through. The branches wipe away like a curtain as the car rolls up a few more metres, and the long, rectangular home is revealed. Four birdhouses stand like pillars in the yard, each higher than the power lines and containing at least a dozen holes for birds to enter in and out. To the side is the garden. Hand-built, wooden planters stretch out over the grass, each harbouring different kinds of vegetables. The house itself is a pale blue, constructed by my father and uncles. It's smaller than I remember. 

The car bumps over the uneven dirt as it slows to a stop in front of the garage. I step out onto the lawn and see my grandpa standing with a cheesy smile on the porch. My grandma must be inside.

"Jonah, come get your stuff," my dad says. 

I lift my bags out of the trunk before my dad closes it and follows me up the ramp, to my grandfather. 

Through the window next to me, I see my grandmother give me a wave with the one arm that she can still move. She has MS, which means she's stuck in her wheelchair. My grandpa does everything for her—feeds her, helps her get cleaned, lifts her into bed. His whole life revolves around her. Sometimes I wonder how he can do it, how he is able to handle seeing the person he loves so helpless everyday, and she's only getting worse. 

"Hi, Jonah!" My grandpa says as he gives my back a hard pat. 

"Hi, Grandpa."

He looks up at my parents who stand behind me, then says, "Don't worry about him. Your boy'll have loads of fun with us."

_I doubt that._

My mother wraps me into a hug.

"Okay, now remember to help out around the house and in the garden, and make sure to brush your teeth both morning and night."

"Mom, I'm 14," I respond. "I know how to take care of myself."

She places her hand on my shoulder as she releases me. 

"Okay." She smiles. "Have a good time."

I nod as her and my dad walk back down the ramp toward the car. My eyes follow the vehicle as it pulls out onto the gravel and drives away, wishing I could be leaving with it. But I'm not, and this is going to be my home for now. No Netflix, no friends, just fields and twelve other tiny abodes, all tucked away somewhere in the mess of trees that hide the rest of the road. 

I feel my grandfather's giant hand settle on my shoulder, and I turn to follow his lead into the house. The first thing I see is the red cuckoo clock that sits over the desk on the other side of the room. The desk displays a series of family photos. One of them is me when I was eight years old; they clearly haven't been keeping up to date with my school photos. 

"Look at you," my grandma's weak voice speaks. "You're getting so big."

I smile and step up to bend over and give her a hug, which is always hard to do due to her wheelchair. 

"And aren't you handsome!" she continues. 

"Thanks, Grandma."

"Jonah," Grandpa says, "you can put your bags down in the guest room."

I nod to him before entering into the short hallway and turning right into the room. I sit my stuff down on the bed and take a look around at the bookshelves. They're the most interesting part of the space. On them, multiple globes of different sizes and colours sit, mixed in with some old novels and photos of people I don't recognize. 

When I walk back into the main room, I find my grandparents at the dining table. They're working on a puzzle that I didn't notice was sitting there, half-finished. 

"Do you want to join us?" Grandpa asks. "We're just looking for the tail of the deer right now."

"Uh, no, thanks," I respond. 

I glance outside at the birds flapping past the window where the sun shines in, splitting into different colours as it passes through the crystal cross dangling from a suction cup stuck to the glass. 

"Why don't you go outside," Grandma suggests. 

"And do what?" I question. 

"Explore," she replies. "You know there's a lake not too far from here. The path to get there is just through some trees on the other side of the ring."

"Just walk around alone?"

"There's a lot of beauty out here in the country," Grandpa says. "You might like it. Like my father used to say to me, paint the fields to uncover the Earth."

I furrow my brows. "What does that mean?"

"It means if you take the time to look closely at something small, you will often find something much bigger."

My eyes wander back outside as I think about that. There's a bird perched at the bird feeder that hangs over the window. Another bird lands next to it. But they're just birds, nothing I haven't seen before. 

"I guess I'll go outside," I say. 

"Good for you," Grandpa responds. "Be back before supper."

I smile as I go over to put on my shoes, then I exit through the door, stepping out into the warm breeze. I stroll down the ramp and onto the grass, then begin my walk down the gravel road. I pass by the house next door—a large mansion with a balcony, completely contrasting my grandparents' bungalow. As I go farther, the cracks in the trees to my left reveal fragments of buildings, but they all appear to be much smaller. 

Eventually, I reach an opening in the woods to my right and see a worn-out path of dirt on the ground. Mud sticks to my shoes as I step down the trail. While the hill gets steeper, the sound of moving water grows louder. I figure I must be reaching the lake, but I don't make it there. Instead, I'm stopped by something hitting the top of my head. 

I crouch down to pick up the fallen object and realize it's a pencil. Confused, I glance up through the foliage above me, wondering where it came from. Soon, the leaves rustle and I see two legs spring out from the branches. Then the boy's face comes into view, looking surprised to see me. 

"Oh, sorry," he says as he climbs down the rest of the way. He leaps off the lowest branch and lands firmly on the dirt in front of me. 

Having him so close now, I'm able to notice his deep eyes, and the way they seem to draw me in further. 

"Uh, yeah," I respond. "Your pencil kinda dropped on me."

I let out a laugh which loosens his initial worry, causing him to chuckle with me as he takes the pencil from my hand. 

"Thanks for picking it up," he says with a smile. 

"Why were you up in a tree?" I ask. 

"I like to go up there to get away," he replies. He seems like he's holding something back, but I'm not sure what. 

"To do what?" I question.

"Usually draw."

"You draw? That's cool."

"Yeah, do you?"

I shake my head. "No. I used to when I was younger, but then I realized that I really can't draw."

"If you can hold a pencil, you can draw," he responds, giving me a grin. "And you already proved that you can do that."

I smile and chuckle, glancing downward, but when I look back up, his eyes are still on me. 

"Uh," I start, "can I see them? Your drawings, I mean."

He nods. "Yeah, but my sketchbook is up there." He points up at the branches. "You'll have to come up with me if you want to see it."

"Okay, but if I slip and die, I'm holding you accountable."

He laughs. "You're not afraid of heights, are you?"

"No, I'm just kidding."

"That's good," he responds, "but I think I'd still hold myself accountable if I let a boy like you get hurt."

I feel my face grow warm at the comment, not really sure what way I should take his words in. 

"A boy like me?" I echo back, wanting more detail.

"Uh—sorry," he quickly returns, breaking his stare away from me, clearly uncomfortable with his previous statement. 

"No, it's—it's okay," I respond, wishing he hadn't apologized. 

"Good," he says, then he turns around and leaps up to latch onto the branch above him. 

I follow below the boy as he hoists himself up between the leaves. When we reach the place where his sketchbook sits across two thick branches, he curls into place next to it. I settle upon a branch across from him, completely out of breath. While his hands flip through the pages of his book, his eyes watch me. 

"You good?" he asks with a slight chuckle. 

"Yeah," I respond. "Just out of breath. Not used to climbing trees of this size—or any size."

He holds his gaze on me for a second longer before turning it down to the image on the page of the open book. 

"This is what I was working on," he says as he turns it around to show me. 

It's a drawing of a cherry tree branch with blossoms on it. The lines are light yet deliberate, as if he knew exactly what he was drawing and never once had to stop to erase anything.

"It's amazing," I say. "You're really talented."

He smiles and flips the book to sit it on his lap again. 

"I wanted to draw something visually captivating," he explains, "something beautiful that anyone would want to stare at for hours."

"I think you did that," I respond. 

He grins as he matches my gaze, making me feel a little exposed, but in a comfortable way, like it's okay to open up with him. 

"Yeah, but," he says, "I think I found something else instead."

I feel my face heat up again, yet as much as I want to look away to hide my blushing cheeks, I can't. His dark brown eyes have somehow pulled me in and stolen my ability to break our stare. 

I guess it's just my luck; I find a cute boy with a charming smile in the one place where I can't do anything about it. _This is exactly what I didn't need._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Walker's POV**   
  
  


His face has gone red, which makes me smile. While he glances to the side to try to hide his colour, I flip my sketchpad to a fresh page to start drawing the outline of his head. As I swipe my pencil to create his chin, I can't help but notice how his defined jaw makes him resemble a Disney prince. Suddenly, his eyes catch mine staring, and I quickly look back down at my page.

"Do you do a lot of portraits?" he asks.

"Yeah, I actually work as a caricature artist sometimes."

Now I'm onto his hair, sweeping the graphite across the paper. I know I was trying to be charming by starting to sketch him, but I'm beginning to think it wasn't such a good idea. Looking so closely at him makes me realize how attractive he is, yet I don't even know if he likes guys.

"That's really cool. So you're, like, a professional artist."

I smile as I finish up the last few strokes of his T-shirt. Then I turn the book around to show him.

"Woah," he reacts. "You made me look really good."

"Nah, that's all you." As soon as it comes out of my mouth, I start laughing nervously to try to cover it up, but the boy has already heard it.

"Thanks," he says with a smile. He opens his mouth as though he's about to add something more, but changes course and closes it again instead.

"What name should I put down?" I ask.

"Uh, Jonah," he responds.

I scribble the name onto the page, then tear it from the coil. The paper flutters in the breeze as I hold it out for him to take.

"You sure?" he asks as he takes it from my hand.

"Yeah, it's yours. But I'm going to need something else to remember you by."

"Like what?" He grins, giving me the confidence to take a chance.

"How about your phone number?"

He hesitates for a moment, which causes me to fear that I misread the situation, but then I relax again when he pulls his phone out of his pocket and passes it to me. I smile as I take it and type my number into his contacts, then I give it back.

"Walker?" he says when he reads the name.

"That's right."

"Do you live here?" he asks.

"Yeah, for my whole life."

"Really? Didn't you ever want to leave and see what else is out there?"

"Sometimes," I admit, "but there's a lot more here than you'd expect."

Although I look down at my sketchbook to start filling in the page with the strokes of my pencil, I can feel his eyes on me and glance up again. His sight immediately springs to the side, which makes me grin.

"So why are you out here?" I ask. "I know you don't live here. I would remember seeing you before."

"I'm staying with my grandparents," he replies.

"Who are they?"

"Bernard and Grace."

"Hey, that makes us neighbours."

"You live in that giant house?"

I nod.

He smiles. "Cool. So you'll get to witness my boredom this summer up close."

"You plan on being bored all summer?" I question.

"Well, what is there to do?" he wonders.

His eyes hold onto mine as I take a minute to sort through all the possible—and probably not socially appropriate to say to a guy you just met who could also very well be straight—answers I have floating around in my mind. He doesn't look away, but the nerves creeping into me make me break our gaze to glance down at my page. As I do, I notice the time on my watch and realize that I need to be getting home.

"A lot," I reply. "But I need to get home now."

Then I close my book and pull myself up by the branches above me to get ready to climb down the tree trunk. Before I go, I look at him once more.

"Hey, uh, there's a sunflower field on the opposite side of the ring," I mention. "I'm going to be there to do some painting tomorrow. I wouldn't be mad if I got some company."

Jonah smiles as he responds, "You might get some."

I grin, biting my lip as I turn to descend down from the branches.

______________________________________

When I enter my house, I hear my mom and my sister yelling from the kitchen.

"Hello!" I shout, but nobody responds. They're too focused on their own argument.

"You are not going!" my mom states.

"Yes, I am!" Rowan responds. "We already bought the plane tickets!"

"Well, that's your own fault! You are not leaving the country with some pothead boyfriend of yours!"

"He's clean now! I told you that!"

Rowan's boyfriends are always a sore subject in this house. At just 17, she's already had too many to count, and none of them have ever fit my mother's standards. Most of them have either been druggies or high school dropouts. Usually, those two qualities go together.

Rowan's twin, Devin, on the other hand, has been in a committed relationship with some guy named Chad since middle school. I've never liked him, but that's because he seems really stuck up and always tells us about his I.T. skills as though I.T. is a more respectable profession than the arts, which annoys me. I seem to be the only one with this opinion, though, because my parents adore him.

The two oldest of my siblings, Holden and Brynn, are both already moved out of the house. I envy them sometimes. If only I could support myself, I would be able to live on my own, not worrying about slipping up and saying the wrong thing in front of my dad. He's particularly strict, and doesn't leave much room for disagreement from kids like me.

Realizing that I won't get my family members' attention, I huff and start toward the stairs. When I reach the top, I walk straight to my bedroom, but what I see when I shove open the door irks me. 

"Porter!" I shout.

My brother stops rummaging through my desk drawer and snaps his head to me.

"What are you doing in my room?" I ask.

"I was looking for my phone charger," he replies.

"I don't have it," I state, annoyed.

"Yeah, I figured that out."

He walks away from my desk but pauses on his way out to turn to me.

"Nice Jonas Brothers poster by the way," he says with a laugh.

"Hey! They have good music!" I argue.

"Right, so it's not just that you think they're hot."

He snickers as my face heats up in embarrassment.

"Dude," he continues through his laughter, "your gayness is showing."

Yes, Porter knows that I'm bisexual. My mom knows too, along with both of my twins sisters who still live with us. Since the older ones are out of the house, I've never bothered to come out to them, but I have thought many times about what could happen if I came out to my dad. My mother has agreed to keep my sexual orientation a secret from him, because she, too, knows that he's far too traditional for that. He frequently voices his disgust toward LGBTQ+ people to us, so I'm terrified to think about how he'd react if he knew that I was one of those disgusting people.

"Don't say that so loud," I hiss as I shove Porter backward by his shoulders.

"Relax," he says. "Dad is at work."

I breathe a sigh of relief, but that still doesn't make me any less annoyed.

"Get out of my room," I command

Porter chuckles. "Okay, chill."

As he steps past me, I hear my phone ding in my pocket and pull it out to see a text.

 **Unknown:**  Hey, it's Jonah. I thought you might want a copy of this.

A photo of the portrait I drew of him appears underneath his last text, making me smile at the sight of his face. As I gaze at the image, I notice Porter leaning his head in to get a glimpse of my phone screen, and I push him away, which makes him break into laughter again. 

"Since when are there new kids out here?" he wonders. 

"He's Bernard and Grace's grandson," I explain.

"Cool, so are you gonna date him?"

Instantly, I push him away and force him out the door, saying, "Get out."

He's still chuckling as I slam the door shut in his face. I open up the photo in my texts again and step over to my bed where I flop down on my back. 

My school is a small one, which means I haven't met anyone new in longer than I can remember. As much as I wish this new boy could be someone special, the chances of that happening are next to none. But even knowing that very logical fact, I can't seem to drag my eyes away from his picture. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter. I've actually got some pretty hopefully good ideas, so I'll be working extra hard to get those down. Please tell your friends about this story if you like it, because there ain't enough Wonah shippers finding this right now, and it's kinda bringing me down. I've never found a full-length Wonah story, only one-shots, so I know this is a little different. Yeah, thanks for reading, and bye!


	3. Chapter 3

**Jonah's POV**   
  
  


Grandpa has gone into town to buy groceries, leaving Grandma and I here at the house. While she watches the birds chirp through the kitchen window, I sit down on my bed and make a video-call to my friends back in Shadyside.

Cyrus is the only one who answers, so I assume the girls must be busy. His face appears on the screen next to TJ's. They're sitting together on the couch in TJ's living room, Cyrus nestled up against TJ's chest.

"Hi!" Cyrus says. "How was your first day?"

"It was good," I reply. "Better than I thought."

I debate in my head whether or not to tell him about meeting the boy. If I tell him, then I can't just ignore whatever is happening with my emotions, but I'm kind of scared to let myself open up and accept it.

"So your grandparents aren't completely boring I assume?" he says.

"Well, they are. I mean, the most exciting thing that happened with them was finding the missing piece of a puzzle."

"Oh," he responds. "What was the picture on the puzzle?"

"A deer."

"Deer are fun."

I chuckle at his attempt to make it seem more interesting than it was. Then TJ peeks his head into the frame to say something to Cyrus.

"We should go if we want to make it to the movie in time," he explains.

"What movie are you seeing?" I ask.

"Shazam," Cyrus answers.

"That's cool. I'll probably see it once I get back home."

Cyrus smiles before saying, "We've got to go, but I'll talk to you tomorrow. Okay?"

"Sure."

I smile as Cyrus and TJ disappear from the screen. With nothing to do, I decide to go out into the kitchen to see if my grandma has any ideas. When she sees me, she glances over, her head turning only slightly due to her struggle with moving it.

"Who were you talking to?" she asks.

"Just my friend, Cyrus," I reply. 

"Oh, that's nice. You know, when I was young, if you weren't near your friends, you just didn't talk to them until you got back," she says as though it's some new astonishing fact that I didn't already know. "Now you've got your fancy flip phones and touch pods. It's nice that you can stay connected."

I figure there's no point in correcting her on the proper terminology in her last statement, so instead I just agree. "Yeah, but he couldn't talk for long, because he's going to a movie with TJ."

"Who's TJ?"

"He's Cyrus' boy—"  _Wait, no, abort._  "—His friend." I'm still not sure how she'd react to that kind of thing. I don't imagine it would go over well.

Grandma nods. Then she changes the subject, shifting her eyes toward the living room.

"Could you please bring that blanket over to me?"

"Yeah, sure."

I walk over to the tan couch in the living room where a green, fleece blanket in bundled up. After picking it up, I notice the picture frames sitting next to a lamp on the tiny table next to the sofa. One in particular catches my eye: a photo of a wavy-haired, young woman in a flowing dress holding a sign that reads "Make Love Not War" standing alongside another woman dressed in similar attire but with large, puffy hair held back by a headband.

"Who are these people in this photo?" I ask as I walk back to my grandmother, holding the frame up for her to see.

I lay the blanket across her lap and she smiles in response before answering my question.

"That's me on the left," she says. "The girl on the right is my old friend, Ruth."

"What were young doing?"

"We were about to go protest." She replies as though that explains everything.

"Protest what?"

"The war. The Vietnam War."

"Wait," I say, having a realization. "You were a hippie?"

She smiles. "Yes, I believe that's what people called us. My friends and I had strong beliefs against the war, and we participated in many rallies."

"What about Grandpa?" I ask.

"He was drafted to fight," Grandma answers.

I guess that makes sense, but I somehow never envisioned my old, simple grandfather at war, nor my fragile grandmother at rallies.

"Did you ever get anything out of the rallies?" I wonder. "Like, did anything change?"

"More than from the riots," she says. That's not what I expected to hear.

"You were in riots?"

She lets out an airy chuckle before responding, "Your mother wouldn't want me to tell you this—she'd say I'm setting a bad example—but I trust that you won't go out and get yourself arrested. I never supported it when it got out of hand, but my friends and I used to go to protests whenever we could, and sometimes things ended up going too far. I always left when the situation became dangerous or violent, because that's not what I wanted to support."

"Wow, I never thought you'd . . ."

"You thought I didn't do anything when I was young."

"Well, yeah," I admit.

She shakes her head, clicking her tongue against her teeth in disapproval. "Didn't you listen to your grandpa? There's much more to find than what you see at first glance."

"Paint the fields to uncover the Earth," I mutter. "Yeah, I guess he was right." My grandparents had a whole life that I had no idea about. I guess they aren't exactly as plain as I assumed they were.

____________________________________

A little ways up the road from my grandparents' house, I come across the sunflower field I was told about. You can't miss it. The yellow practically glows in the daylight, and the tall stems hide the boy whose head I spot peeking out from between the petals. I climb over the short, wire fence and walk down a grass pathway between the flowers, toward him.

As I get closer, I see that he is sitting cross-legged in the centre of a bare circle in the middle of the field. Grassy trails extend outward from the space like spokes on a wheel. Around him, tubes of oil paints lay scattered across the ground. On his lap is a small, square canvas, which he colours with his paintbrush after each dip of the brush into the globs of paint on his palette. He glances up at me as I lower down to sit in front of him.

"Hey," he says. "Could you do me a favour?"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"Could you take one of those sunflowers and just hold it up for me?"

I reach to snap the stem of the flower he's pointing to. Then I bring it down in front of me and tilt the top for him to see.

"Awesome," he says. "Now could you hold it closer to you, making sure not to block your face?"

I do as asked, watching as he smiles and starts streaking yellow across his canvas.

"Why do you need me to hold this if all you're doing is painting the flowers?"

He stops the motion of his brush for a second to look up at me as he answers, "Because I'm painting you."

That makes my face grow warm, and I lift the sunflower to try and hide it, which only makes him laugh.

"Smooth," I say.

"Oh, you think I'm flirting with you?"

I feel my stomach drop as I contemplate how to play this off, but his smile gives me the feeling like I didn't make that out-there of an assumption.

"So you paint everyone you meet?" I ask.

"I didn't say that," he replies, flashing a grin again before looking back down at his canvas to continue painting.

I smile, feeling my face redden again, but this time I don't try to cover it up.

All of a sudden, the roar of an engine zooms by on the road behind me, and Walker and I both look over to see the top of a yellow car passing along.

"That's my sister, Devin," Walker says as I turn back.

"How old is she?" I ask.

"Seventeen. She goes into town a lot, because that's where her boyfriend lives."

"Do you have any other siblings or just the sister?"

"Oh, I have a lot more," he says with a chuckle. "I'm the youngest of six."

"Woah." I laugh along with him. "I'm an only child."

"Looks like we come from very different households."

"Yeah," I agree. "What's it like having that many siblings?"

"Well, for starters, it's loud. I can also leave the house anytime without anyone noticing."

He laughs again, which makes me smile.

"You need to show me sometime."

I bite my lip as I wait for him to respond, but his reluctance makes my heart rate quicken.  _He did admit to flirting with me, didn't he? Did I just misread everything?_

After a few seconds, he finally replies, "Yeah, uh . . . yeah, for sure."

I let out the breath I was subconsciously holding, and he returns my smile before turning his attention back to painting the picture of me and the flower in my hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support of this story! I love you all!


	4. Chapter 4

**Walker's POV**   
  
  


"You actually live here," Jonah says as he stares up at the long balcony that encompasses the upper floor of my house. 

We walk up the porch, and as soon as I open the front door, I hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Walker!" my sister calls. She stops when she notices Jonah standing beside me, then says, "Oh, hi."

"Hey," Jonah says with a smile.

"Rowan, this is Jonah."

She smiles at Jonah before looking back to me. "Can you do the dishes before Dad gets home?"

"Why can't you do them?" I argue.

"I'm going out."

"Where?"

She rolls her eyes. "That's none of your business. Just have the dishes done."

She gives me a condescending pat on the shoulder before sliding her shoes on and exiting through the door, behind Jonah and I.

"Sorry," I say to Jonah. "My dad's gonna be home soon, so I need to do that."

"No worries," he responds. "I'll help."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

I smile. "Okay."

I lead him through the living room, into the kitchen. Right away, I see the huge collection of dirty plates and cups on the counter. Jonah rests his elbows on the island top, leaning over the other side of it from me, while I grab the dish soap from the cupboard beneath the sink. After sealing the plug in the basin, I squirt some soap in, and then I twist the tap handle to begin filling up the sink with steaming water. 

"So with so many siblings, do you have more or less chores to do?" Jonah asks. 

"Well, more of us means more mess, so about the same."

He watches the mountain of soap bubbles build up under the rushing water in the sink for a second before reaching in to scoop out a cluster of foam with his index finger.

"I don't mind doing the dishes," he says. "When I was younger, I got excited whenever my parents had to do them, because I'd be able to pull up a chair and play in the bubbles."

I smile at the thought. "I did the same thing, except with five siblings, someone always started a bubble fight, which got us all sent to our rooms."

"Bubble fight? Like this?"

He grins before blowing the tuft of soap from his finger, in my direction. It dissolves on my black T-shirt as soon as it hits me.

"Almost," I respond with a smile. "More like this."

I scrape a clump of the soap from the rising water and puff it out into his hair. He laughs as he quickly reaches up to brush it off, sending tiny bubbles back up into the air. 

"You messed with my hair," he says. "You just turned this fight into a war."

I laugh as he winds around the island to obtain easier access to the sink. When he dives his hands into the water, I step back, ready to block the shots. He tries to toss a bubble cluster at me, but it gets caught by the air and falls to the floor. I smile as he looks down in defeat. 

Next, we both lunge for the sink, ending up in a full-blown battle. As we throw soap shots back and forth, the gap between us slowly closes in. He reaches once more to refill his ammo, but I catch his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. I bring his hand back up in front of us, his eyes watching the movement. Then I let go of my grip on his wrist and carefully raise my hand up a bit higher, my fingers grazing his palm before linking them through his. My heart throbs in my chest as his eyes find mine. 

"There are bubbles everywhere," I say with a smile. 

He lets out laugh as he glances around at the soapy mess we've made. 

"And in your hair," I add.

I reach my other hand up to brush away the bubbles stuck to the back of his head, but as I do, I feel his fingers close tighter between mine, which causes my raised arm to stay where it's at and my hand to rest on the back of his head. He shifts closer toward me, and my eyes fall to his lips. 

Suddenly, our moment is broken by the squeak of the front door opening, and I push away from Jonah, feeling fear spike in me as I look over at who has just entered in.

"Hello?" my dad calls. 

"Hi," I reply. 

I avoid Jonah's concerned eyes as my father stomps into the kitchen and scans the room. Thankfully, most of the bubbles on the floor are hidden by the island, but he can still see the pile of unwashed dishes on the counter. 

"Didn't I tell your sister to do these?" he says.

"Yeah, but I said I'd take care of it," I lie. It's our sibling code: even if we don't agree, we don't throw each other under the bus. 

"Then get to it," Dad orders.

He clunks back out of the room, and Jonah turns to look at me. 

"You okay?" he asks. 

"Yeah."  _No. Obviously not, but I'm not going to tell Jonah that._

I don't even want to imagine what could've happened if my dad had walked in just a few seconds later—if he had seen Jonah and I doing anything more. I can't be so careless again. I need to make sure that whatever happens between Jonah and I stays far away from anywhere even remotely related to my father. Otherwise, I don't know what would happen to me.

___________________________________

I open the door to the office where the printer is tucked in between my parents' computers. A wave of anxiety floods through me when I see that it's not just my mom down here. If I had known my father was here too, I never would've taken the risk by printing the photo that I did. Thankfully, he's too focused on his computer screen to pay attention to the machine spitting ink-filled paper from its mouth. 

"You know Ralph at my office?" my dad says to my mom, still not looking back. 

"What about him?" My mom responds. 

She swivels around in her chair and smiles when she sees me. I feel my chest tighten as she alerts her husband of my presence. 

"Hi, Walker. What are you printing?"

"Just—uh—c—crossword puzzles," I stammer. 

"Oh?" She furrows her brows in skepticism, but I repeat myself to assure her of my lie. 

"Crossword puzzles. I'm trying to get better at, uh, English and stuff."

"Okay." She looks over at my dad again who spins around in his own seat. "What were you saying about Ralph?"

"You wouldn't believe it," he says. "He told the office that him and his boyfriend are getting married."

"Oh, did he?" my mother responds. 

She glances up at me and nods toward the door, signalling that I should go. I quickly reach for my printed paper, curling it into a tube to keep my parents from seeing the image on it. I hurry out of the office, but don't continue down the hall right away. Instead, I wait on the other side of the door, listening to the conversation happening between my parents. 

"It's disgusting," my dad grumbles. "It should still be illegal to abuse marriage for such a perverted thing."

My mother doesn't respond, or if she does, I can't hear it. I push myself away from the door and start up the stairs to my room. When I reach the second floor, my brother passes me on his way to the washroom. 

"What'cha got there? Another Jonas Brothers poster?" Porter teases. 

I ignore him and go into my room, pulling the door shut tight behind me. Then I walk into my closet and unfurl the piece of paper. Once I've stuck tape to the top and bottom of the page, I press the photo that I took today up on the wall. I sit down on the carpet and lean against the opposite wall of my closet as I gaze across at the picture of Jonah and I holding sunflowers in  the yellow field. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Jonah's POV**

 

Rain pummels the window of my room, waking me up. I roll over to check the tiny analog clock on the bedside table and see that it's only 12:23. That means I've only been asleep for a little over two hours. Knowing I won't be able to fall asleep again with the pounding rain, I reach for my phone. Not sure if anyone will be awake, I try texting the group chat of my friends.

 **Jonah:**  Anybody up?

No reply. 

I scroll through my conversations, stopping on another name.  _I only text him during the day. Should I text him? Would that be weird? Well, I guess I'm about to find out._

 **Jonah:**  Hey. You awake?

To my surprise, I get an response almost immediately. 

 **Walker:**  I'm always up. 

 **Jonah:**  You're a night owl?

 **Walker:**  I'm an all day owl. I never sleep. 

I laugh quietly to myself. 

 **Jonah:** You never sleep, huh? Should I be worried?

 **Walker:**  Nah. My record is four days without sleep.

 **Jonah:**  That sounds unhealthy. 

 **Walker:**  Probably is, but I find I'm more productive at night. :) 

He's so calm about it that it makes me smile. 

 **Jonah:**  You really should get some sleep sometimes. 

 **Walker:** Or . . .

 **Jonah:**  Or?

 **Walker:**  Or you could come join me and learn to love the night. 

I consider it for a moment. My grandparents are both asleep, so they wouldn't know if I left. I might be tired in the morning, but I will also be tired if I stay up thinking about how I could've been out. 

 **Jonah:**  Okay. I'm coming over.

 **Walker:**  Don't come to my house.

 **Walker:**  I'm not there.

 **Jonah:**  Then where are you?

_____________________________________

My shoes stick to the mud as I trudge down the path between the trees. The foliage above relieves my raincoat from some of the work it would otherwise have to do. When I reach the base of the tree, I need to put in extra effort to launch myself up out of the mud and latch onto the branch above me. I climb up higher and swing my leg over a familiar branch once I get to Walker's height. Now tucked deep inside the leaves, I am completely blocked from the rain. 

"So tell me why you like going outside at night in the middle of a rainstorm," I say.

Walker doesn't hold any art supplies tonight. It's too wet for that anyway. His smile is fainter than usual, which makes me worry. 

"Sometimes I need to get some air," he replies. 

"And tonight's one of those nights?" 

Walker nods. 

"What's going on?" I ask. 

He looks down at his hands before answering, "Uh, it's my dad."

"What about him?"

"He, uh . . . Well, I assume you probably know that I'm bi."

Hearing confirmation of that fact sends chills up my spine. I actually have a chance with him. That means everything's about to get about twenty times more complicated, because there's no point in denying anymore that I like him. 

"I figured," I say. 

"Yeah, well, my dad is, uh . . ." Walker licks his lips and glances upward as he tries to phrase the words. "He's kind of homophobic. By kind of, I mean very. He's very homophobic. Every once in a while, he'll say something about it, and I just need some space."

"I get that,"  I say. 

"Are your parents—?"

"No. I mean, I haven't told them yet, but I think it will go fine when I do.

Suddenly, it hits me that I just inadvertently came out to him. He smiles when he sees the realization on my face. 

"Don't worry," he says. "I was hoping."

Butterflies swirl in my stomach, and I laugh, trying to break the tension that has fallen between us. 

"I am afraid of how my grandparents will react, though," I say. 

"Why would you need to tell them?" he asks. 

I shift on the branch, suddenly uncomfortable.  _Because of him._

He chuckles, which lets me know that he probably already knows my answer.

"I assume you've never told them about any of your old boyfriends before," Walker says. 

"Actually, I've never had a boyfriend before," I confess. 

He takes a moment to smile before saying, "Me neither. I've never even kissed a boy before."

"Me neither."

We both stop, and the air falls silent as our eyes latch onto each other. I suddenly become hyperaware of my breathing and have to remind myself not to let it falter. After a moment, he looks down again. 

"Uh . . . I guess I'm not the only one then," he says. 

 _And I guess we're both too scared to make a move._ That's probably best, considering we're up in a tree, and if we fell, we would likely break some bones. 

______________________________________

The stairs creek beneath our weight as Walker and I descend into the basement. Walker came over to hang out, so I was thankful when my grandparents decided to go out to buy groceries together, because I wouldn't have to be careful not to let them see us do anything that friends wouldn't do. Before they left, they suggested that Walker and I play a board game. Then they casually mentioned that all of the games are down in this dingy room, which is filled from the floor to the ceiling with boxes labelled with tape. 

"What am I looking for?" Walker asks as he steps onto the concrete floor next to me.

"A box labelled board games?" I suggest. "I'm not entirely sure."

"Awesome."

We wind between the mountains of boxes and some random items, searching for something related to our objective. Walker taps my arm when he sees a banner draped over something else. 

"'1974 Shadyside Pie-Eating Champion,'" he reads out. 

"Woah," I say with a laugh. "I wonder if this was my grandma's or my grandpa's."

"My aunt lives in Shadyside," Walker mentions. 

"Really? That's where I live."

"That's cool," he responds. 

Then he lifts the banner up, revealing an acoustic guitar underneath. Immediately, I reach to pick it up. Walker watches as I sit down on the metal chest behind me and strum a chord.

"You play guitar?" he says, sitting down beside me. 

"Yeah."

"That's cool. I've always wanted to learn."

"Well, I can show you a little bit," I say. 

"That'd be great."

His smile make me forget what I'm doing for a moment, but then I remember and pass the guitar to him. 

"I'll show you a G chord, because that's easiest," I explain. "Just put your fingers on these strings here," I say as I point to them. 

He glances down at the neck of the guitar before looking back up to me. 

"Which ones?"

I grin and lift his hand with mine, placing each of his fingers over the correct strings. While I do that, his focus is on me, flickering back and forth between my eyes and my lips.

"There," I say once I've positioned his hand properly. "Any questions?"

"Just one," he says with a smile. "Can I kiss you?"

The butterflies in my stomach return like releasing a wave as I nod my head. Then he sets the guitar down beside him and touches his hand to my jaw, bringing his lips gently to mine. And then he's kissing me, and I realize just how far I've drifted from my plan to not like him.  _I definitely like him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is cute, and I'm super excited to continue. I've got a really sweet ending planned for this, but that's still many chapters away. Anyway, I hope you liked this, because I do. I love you all! Have a good night!


	6. Chapter 6

**Walker's POV**

 

Our kiss is interrupted by the sound of a voice calling out from upstairs. Jonah and I startle apart, and Jonah yells back. 

"I'm down here, Grandpa!"

Jonah looks at me with sorry eyes and slips his fingers through mine, sending a tingle up my arm.  _How did this even happen? How is it that this boy I like actually likes me back?_

"Want to go somewhere else?" he asks, and I smile back. 

___________________________________

We walk side by side down the gravel road. Once his house is covered by the trees, Jonah glances down at our brushing hands, and I take the initiative to lock them together, making him smile. 

"So . . ." I say. 

"So . . ."

We continue walking, and I wonder which one of us will have the courage to address the elephant in the room first. Eventually, Jonah speaks up.

"Are you afraid of what will happen if your dad finds out?" he asks. 

"Wait, there's something for him to find out?" I tease. 

"Okay, fine," Jonah huffs. "If you're not going to ask, I will."

He stops walking and turns to me, taking my other hand while releasing an exhale. 

"Walker," he says, his eyes on mine, "do you want to be my boyfriend or not?"

We both laugh, and I reach to put my arm around him, bringing him up to my side as we continue walking. 

"That depends," I reply. "Can you put up with me? I'm pretty needy. I like holding hands, seeing you smile, and, oh, I'll need another kiss."

Jonah stretches up to peck my cheek, and I turn to him, raising my eyebrows. 

"Not good enough," I say. 

He grins and steps in to press his lips to mine. This feels less rushed than the first time, leaving more time for the butterflies to fill every inch of my body. Now hidden by the trees that line the road, I'm able to pull him in closer without worry of someone seeing us. 

I smile as we float apart, and I brush back a piece of his hair that has flopped forward. 

"I think I can put up with those terms," he says. 

As we begin strolling forward again, he has another thought.

"Do I have to heart all your Instapics?"

I chuckle and reply, "I don't have Instapic."

"Because I would," he utters. 

___________________________________

Once we've come full-circle around the ring, my house comes into view, and I suddenly start thinking about everything I'll be missing once I let this boy go. I squeeze his hand a little tighter as we take the last few strides forward until I decide we're too close to the windows to hold hands any longer. I loosen my grip, but my fingers stay intertwined with his a bit longer, not quite ready to let go. 

"It's okay," Jonah assures me. "I'll be here tomorrow, and we can hang out all day."

"I'm going to hold you to that," I say.

"Go ahead," he responds, "because I mean it."

While he smiles, I struggle to keep my eyes off his lips, knowing that if I look there, I won't be able to keep myself from kissing him again. 

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says. 

"Yeah," I agree. "See you."

I watch as he splits away, heading toward his own home. Before turning around the wall of trees, he glances back to smile at me once more. 

When he's gone, I take a deep breath and ascend the stairs to my porch. After unlocking the door, I enter in to see Porter and Rowan staring at me from the couch, both with knowing grins on their faces. 

"What's up?" I ask, trying to sound casual. 

Rowan, clearly not putting up with me, rolls her eyes and says, "Don't act all dumb. We saw you holding hands with that boy. Who was he?"

She stares at me, eager to hear my answer. I figure now is a better time to tell them than when our parents are home from work, so I sit down on the armrest of the sofa across from my siblings to explain, but Porter handles the question for me.

"That's Jonah," he says, making his eyebrows do a little dance as Rowan grins. 

"Ooh, Jonah," she repeats. "How'd you meet him? Where'd you meet him? Where did he come from?" Her face becomes more and more confused as she ponders. "I thought we knew everyone here."

"He came on Monday," I explain. "He's the grandson of Bernard and Grace."

"And you two are a couple?" Rowan asks. 

My face heats up under her stare, and she gives my brother a glance. 

"It all feels pretty unreal," I say. "I mean, he's my first boyfriend—"

"Your first?" Porter cuts in. "I assumed you had a secret one at some point."

I shake my head. "Nah. I have the tendency to only like straight guys."

"Not anymore," Rowan points out, smiling. 

"Not anymore," I confirm, looking down at my twiddling thumbs. "I got really lucky, didn't I?"

"Nah, bro," Porter replies. "The universe just realized how much more you deserve and decided it was about time to give it to you."

He stands up and walks over to mess up my hair with his big hand. I don't resist, too happy right now to be mad. 

Then he asks a question that kills my mood. "So are you going to tell Dad?" 

I frown. "No. Not yet, at least. Maybe not ever." I look up at Porter. "Do you think he'd hate me?"

Porter lets out a huff and gives my shoulder a pat. 

"I don't know, Walker," he responds. "Maybe he'll see things differently when it's his son. Maybe he'll only get worse. I really don't know."

Noticing the tears welling up in my eyes, Porter puts his arms around me and pulls me into a hug. 

_____________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

 

As soon as I get into my room, I jump onto my bed and take out my phone to text my friends about what happened.

 **Jonah:**  Guys! 

 **Cyrus:** Jonah!

 **Buffy:**  What's up?

 **Andi:**  Sorry, I can't talk right now. I'm in the middle of family yoga night with Bex and Bowie. 

 **Jonah:**  That's cool. I'll just tell it to Buffy and Jonah then. 

 **Buffy:** Tell us what?

 **Jonah:**  I have a boyfriend.

 **Andi:** WAIT, WHAT?

 **Cyrus:**  I thought you were doing family yoga?

 **Andi:** Forget that. 

 **Andi:**  Jonah, please continue. Who is this boyfriend?

 **Jonah:**  His name is Walker.

 **Andi:**  Ooh.

 **Cyrus:** I guess he's probably not into cross country then, eh?" 

 **Buffy:** Cyrus, that was a terrible joke.

 **Cyrus:**  Personally, I am very proud of it. 

 **Andi:** How come you've haven't mentioned him in any of the five days you've been gone?" 

 **Jonah:**  I wasn't exactly looking for a relationship.

 **Jonah:**  I'm still not sure how my grandparents will react, or if I should even tell them about Walker and I. 

 **Jonah:**  It's a lot easier to just ignore stuff than to face it. 

 **Cyrus:** You don't have to tell them if you don't want to. You only have just a bit over three weeks left anyway."

That strikes me hard. I had completely forgotten that I'm only here for a month. That means my summer romance has a time limit, and I'm not sure how I'll be able to let it go once it's time for it to end. 

Suddenly feeling uneasy, I end the chat with my friends by sending one last text. 

 **Jonah:** Hey, I've got to go, but I'll text you guys tomorrow.

I set my phone down on the bedside table, not bothering to wait for their responses. The blank ceiling burns into my vision as I stare up at it after lying back, wishing I could have just a bit more time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter is short. There are three left, and the next two are likely going to be insanely long, so hopefully that will make up for this. Also, fun fact for y'all: Walker's family situation with his dad was inspired by my old best friend's girlfriend, who was out to her mom and not her dad for this very reason. That's basically it. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Jonah's POV**

 

When I step into Walker's house, I see a teenage boy on the couch with his arm around Rowan. The smell of cigarettes wafts in our direction, likely permanently etched into his black leather jacket. 

"Rowan," Walker says, "you're not supposed to have Duke over here."

She rolls her eyes, leaning farther into her boyfriend's embrace. 

"Whatever," she mutters. Then she looks up at me. "How's life going, Jo Jo?"

I chuckle at the nickname. 

"Pretty good. Thanks."

Walker slides his hand into mine, making me turn my attention to him, and he leads me up the stairs. One of the open doorways we pass by contains Devin who looks up when she sees me and gives me a wave before Walker and I continue to his room. Although I've been in here many times before, the space is so cluttered with things, and the walls with drawings, that I discover something new every time I enter. Today it's a collection of four seashells sitting on his bookshelf. 

"Where are these from?" I ask as I pick one up, feeling the ridges under my thumb. 

"Those from from the lake," he explains. "When I was younger, I used to collect seashells from there, but I ended up with way too many, so I put most of them back and just kept a few."

"Cool."

"Do you have seashells?"

"No. I know I found some at the beach when I was little, but I my mom says I always threw them back into the water before leaving. I don't know why."

"You cared about nature," Walker responds with a smile, "and leaving the seashells where they belong."

"Yeah."

His hand wraps around my waist from behind, and he rests his chin on my shoulder while I gaze up at the photos on his shelf. 

"What's this one?" I ask. 

I point to a picture of an eight year-old Walker holding up a skip rope over his head.

"I was a pro jump roper," he replies. "I could do all kinds of tricks."

"Docious," I mutter. "You know, I'm actually a pretty killer ultimate Frisbee player."

"Hold up," he says, stepping to my side. "Docious?"

I laugh. "Docious magocious. It was something I used to say. I've been saying it again recently. I don't know why."

All of a sudden, Walker's brother shows up in the doorway. 

"Hey," Porter says, "it's guy from the photos in your closet."

Walker immediately gets upset and storms over to push the door shut on his cackling brother. When Walker turns back around, I grin.

"You have photos of me in your closet?"

He hesitates before saying, "Yes." 

Then he walks over to his closet and shoves the doors open. I go over to stand by his side and spot the picture of us in the sunflower field together, mixed in with a Jonas Brothers poster and a few watercolour paintings. 

"Just the one," Walker says. 

I glance up at my boyfriend and ask, "Do you want a better one?"

He smiles and pulls out his phone, which I steal from his hand. I hold out the camera as I lean in to kiss him. After, I show him the photo on the screen.

"Pretty good," he says, taking his phone back from my hand and sliding it back into his pocket. "Now how about you kiss me again so that I don't need to photo to remember it by."

I smile and return my lips to his. We melt into each other while we kiss, and I let him take control of my sputtering heartbeat. His hands comb through the hair on the back of my head as our mouths interlock, and I tug on his shirt to seal his body against mine. 

A shouting from downstairs shocks us apart. I look down at Walker's chest, panting, my hands still holding him tightly against me. 

"We have really bad timing," I say with a laugh. 

Walker smiles and lets me go before walking over to open the door to get a clearer sound of the angry yelling. His mouth drops when he recognizes the voice.

"It's my dad," he says. 

We both remain silent as we listen to the fight occurring one flight down. 

"I don't want that boy in this house!" Walker's dad shouts. 

"You're not even supposed to be home yet!" Rowan's voice argues back. 

"So that makes it okay to blatantly disobey me? Rowan, that boy is a delinquent! He's been to jail!"

"It was juvi, not jail! He didn't kill anybody!"

While the fight goes on, I begin to think a little deeper into things than I should. If that's how Walker's dad reacts to Rowan's boyfriend, how would he react to his son's? 

In that instant, a familiar prickling sensation bubbles up in my limbs, and the pain pinches my chest from the inside out, causing me to collapse onto my knees as I gasp for air. 

The next few moments pass in a blur. I hear Walker's voice in my ears saying it's going to be okay, but I'm going to die. I know it. I'm going to die in my boyfriend's arms, and he's going to have to watch me as my own body kills me. 

Suddenly, the gruff voice from downstairs blasts into my head, but it's not angry anymore. It's concerned. The man rubs my back as the world around me returns, and my breathing settles back to normal. Walker stares at me, obviously itching to drown me in a hug, but he can't as long as his dad is here. His dad's eyes are gentle as he looks at me. 

"You okay, son?" he asks. 

I nod, scared to say anything.

Mr. Brodsky glances back at his son. "Is this your friend?"

Walker nods, also unable to speak. 

"Don't be ashamed," Mr. Brodsky tells me, mistaking the fear on my face for embarrassment. "We all have things we can't control. That doesn't cancel out any of your good qualities. It just makes you human."

I smile as he stands and reaches out to help me up. Walker's only ever said the bad things about his father. I never even stopped to consider that he must have some good characteristics too. I find it hard to believe that this man who just said the words he did would turn his back on his gay son, but then again, I don't know him the way Walker does. 

_____________________________________

Walker and I lie on the sand, staring up at the orange-lit sky. My index finger traces the lines on Walker's palm while I lie perpendicular to him with my head on his midriff. The soft  _woosh_  of the lake waves fills the comfortable silence between us as we both lie with our thoughts.  

After a while, I speak. "I don't think your dad means to do the wrong thing."

Walker lets that sink in for a moment before responding, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I think he just doesn't understand. I don't think he realizes how wrong his beliefs are."

"Maybe," Walker says. 

He doesn't say anything more, so I shift myself to snuggle up against his chest, smelling his Old Spice cologne. I told him once that I liked how he smelt with it on, and now he wears it nearly everyday, which I'm not complaining about.

His lips press a gentle kiss to my temple, and I lift my chin to meet his kiss with my own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like how this one turned out. Three more chapters, so buckle up. Thanks for reading! I love you all!


	8. Chapter 8

**Jonah's POV**

 

At dinner, my grandma sits next to Grandpa with me across from them at the square table. Grandpa helps Grandma by cutting her salmon before she stabs her fork into it using her good hand.

"Jonah," my grandmother asks. "what did you do today?"

"I was hanging out with Walker," I reply before taking a bite of my dinner. 

"It's so nice that you've found a friend here," she responds with a smile. "It took your grandpa and I a while to become close to the people up here when we first moved."

"We eventually met the all the neighbours," my grandpa says, "but it took us far longer to do that than it took you to become friends with Walker."

"When did you guys first come up here?" I ask. 

"I think it was around 2003 or 2004," my grandpa answers, "a couple years after Marcy came here."

"Who's Marcy?"

"Marcy is my sister," Grandma explains. 

"Does she still live here?" 

"No. She moved up above a few years ago."

"Canada?" I wonder, surprised. 

"Heaven," Grandma corrects. 

"Oh, I'm sorry," I mutter. "I wish I had known her."

"Oh, don't fret about it," Grandpa responds. "She would've loved you."

"Dorothy, too," Grandma adds. 

"Who's Dorothy?"

"Dorothy was Marcy's partner," Grandma explains. 

My brain freezes, unable to process that. 

"What do you mean?" I ask. 

My grandmother clicks her tongue and gives me grandpa a glance. 

"I thought most kids your age were accepting to this kind of stuff," Grandma says.

"No, I am," I quickly respond. "I just . . . Like a romantic partner?"

"Yes," my grandma confirms, unable to nod her head due to her limited mobility. 

My grandparents chew on their food while they watch me struggle with the argument I'm having inside my head. After another moment, I hear my mouth speak out what's going on in my brain before I even decide to say it. 

"Walker's not my friend." I stare at my grandparents who wait with blank faces for me to explain myself. "He's my boyfriend."

My grandma's face melts into a smile which she shares with my grandfather. 

"That's cute," she says. 

Neither or them say anything more, going back to eating their dinner. I can't bring myself to pick my fork up again, still waiting for something more to happen.

"That's it?" I ask. 

My grandpa looks over at Grandma.

"Yes," he says. "Walker's a nice boy."

"Yeah," I say, still waiting, though I'm no longer sure what for. I guess I just expected a bigger reaction. "Okay, cool."

_____________________________________

**Walker's POV**

 

"Okay," Jonah says, "what about that one?"

We lie next to each other in the centre of the sunflower field, our hands linked between us. Above, puffs of white roll across the sky. The grey in the distance suggests that it may rain later, but, for now, the sun is bright, causing the yellow blossoms to radiate around us. 

"It looks like a . . ." I stare up at the cloud, contemplating it's shape. ". . . piece of pizza."

Jonah turns his head to me. "Pizza? It's not even a triangle."

"I'm hungry," I respond. 

Jonah rolls over on top of me, resting his hands on my chest and his chin on his hands. His eyes gaze out at me as I bring my finger up to trace his jaw.

"Well, then why don't we go get some lunch?" he suggests. 

"We could," I reply, "but I'd rather kiss you."

His head comes down to meet mine, but I push myself up to into the kiss first. While he sits with his knees on either side of my me, I hold him tightly up to my chest, and I can feel his lungs rise and fall, pressing my heartbeat into action like a button. 

After a moment, he leans away, though it's too soon for my liking. His forehead rests against mine as we let the ruffle of the sunflowers in the breeze take over the soundscape. 

"I'm going to miss this," he utters in a voice as frail as a newborn puppy.

"We still have one week," I say.

I still don't believe that's enough, but I'm trying not to think about it. I don't want to waster the last few days I have with Jonah by crying over the lack of time. 

"That's not enough," Jonah whispers.

A tear drips down his cheek, and I reach up to wipe it away with my thumb, causing his eyes to open back up and focus on mine. Looking at him right now, I can't deny that I need to keep this boy with me as long as fate will allow, and I know that trying to say otherwise would shatter me into more pieces than trying to convince myself it's okay to let him go would. 

I slide my fingers through his as I respond, "I know."

________________________________________

Right when I enter my house, the creak of the door is slapped with the shouting of my parents in the kitchen. I don't usually see them fighting, so this is worrisome territory. Careful to be quiet, I close the door and step over to the wall so that I can listen to their argument without them noticing. 

My mom's voice hits the air, saying, "He's your son—"

"My son," my father barks, "doesn't kiss boys!"

I feel my lungs choke up like a claw has gripped them and is now squeezing closed.  _How does he know? Did my mom tell him?_

Shaking, I peek my head out just enough to see inside the kitchen. On the island next to my parents I see a colourful sheet of paper. I've looked at it far too much to not recognize the photo of Jonah and I from my closet, the one we took the day he had that panic attack. Although slowly, the weight of the entire ocean drops on my shoulders, and I crumble to the ground, the wall being the only thing holding my upright. I try to stifle my choked breaths as I let my eyes well up and spill over. 

"Maybe this is just some kind of experimenting phase he's going through," my father reasons, "and he'll come back once he realizes this isn't what he wants."

"What does 'come back' mean?" my mother fights. "Scott, he hasn't gone anywhere! He's right here, and you're seeing more of him than you ever have! Whether you like it or not, this is a part of him, and that won't change!"

Not wanting to hear any more of this, I push myself up from the ground. The sudden weakness that has struck my limbs makes it difficult to hold up my weight, but the screaming in my mind makes it's easy to get my feet to carry me back out through the front door. As soon as I step outside, the pressure inside my head releases, and I take in a huge gasp of air, but it doesn't wash out the queasiness in my stomach. 

All I know is I can't be here right now, so I do the only logical thing someone to do in my situation; I step out onto the gravel road and run. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while. I've been trying to perfect everything as much as I can. I'm hopefully going to get the next chapter up today too, and the last one up tomorrow. I'm hyped, although y'all are probably broken, so yeah, sorry. Love you!


	9. Chapter 9

**Jonah's POV**

 

I continue scooping in spoonfuls of my cereal, yet I can't help but glance at my phone between each one. Every time I do, the situation remains the same: no response from Walker.  _This is normal, right? He's probably just sleeping._  I try to shove away the memory of when he said he never sleeps. Everyone has to sleep. However, this is the first time ever that he's taken this long to respond to my "good morning" text. 

"Is everything alright?" Grandpa asks.

He watches me with worry while chomping on a piece of honey toast with his fake teeth. Grandma has the same look of her face, only to a lesser extent, due to her limited abilities, but it's still noticeable as being concern. 

"Yeah, everything's fine," I try to convince myself. "It's just—uh—Walker's not answering my texts."

"Well, how about you go over and see him after breakfast," Grandpa recommends. 

"Yeah," I concur, checking my phone once more to see nothing but a blank lock screen. "I'll do that."

All of a sudden, a bang on the door sounds out, and I spring up out of my chair to answer it, hoping to find Walker on the other side. What I actually find is troublesome. Mr. Brodsky stands red-faced and anxious on the porch. Right away, I'm worried. He's never wanted to speak to to just me before. 

"H—hello, Mr. Brodsky," I say, my voice shaking. 

"Hi, Jonah," he responds. "Look, I know he probably asked you not to tell me where he is, but if you know, please tell me."

_So his family's looking for him too? What happened to him?_

"He's gone?" I ask. 

His father looks like he's about to crack into tears at any moment as he asks, "Can I come in?"

 After hesitating for a second, I step aside to let him enter. While I stare at the man in my house, he sits down at the table in my seat, and I take the last empty one next to my grandma. 

"Walker left last night," Mr. Brodsky explains. "I figured he would come back in the morning, but he's still out, and I'm getting really worried."

"Well, doesn't he go out all the time?" I say. 

"Yes, but I'm afraid the circumstances surrounding this time weren't normal."

"What do you mean?"

He looks up at me, tears glistening in his eyes, and a frown etched into his face. 

"I learned some interesting information about you and him," he says. 

Instantly, I feel fear bubble up inside me.  _Why is he in my house? Is he here to get mad at me? Is he going to yell at me for making his son gay or something?_  But his face looks as though he's too broken to do any of that. 

"I didn't react the way I should have, and I'm afraid he heard that and ran off," Mr. Brodsky explains. 

I sit in silence along with my grandparents, all of us waiting for whatever it is that still seems to be on the edge of the man's tongue. 

"I spoke with my wife a lot last night," Mr. Brodsky states. "I'd rather have an alive son, no matter who he loves, than a dead, straight one. So please help me find my son."

"Jonah," my grandmother says, "do you have any idea where he might be?"

Suddenly, I have a thought. If he was trying to get away for a moment, I think I might know where he could be, but I'm not going to tell his father that just yet. I want to talk to Walker first. 

"No," I lie. 

Mr. Brodsky sighs and gets up out of his chair, saying, "Then I should be getting to the next house to see if they know anything. Thanks for trying to help."

He leaves through the front door, and I turn to my grandparents.

"I'm going to get some air," I say. 

They nod, and I quickly put my shoes on before stepping outside. 

____________________________________

From below, I can see a flash of the boy's shoes between the leaves. When I climb up the tree and find my usual spot to sit, I notice that Walker has no art supplies today. He's just sitting in the quiet air. At my arrival, he gives me a soft smile, his eyes showing the pain behind them. 

"You scared me," I say calmly. 

He's quiet for another moment while he glances down at the branches below us. 

"My phone died," he responds. "Otherwise, I would've texted you."

"You could've come to me," I remind him. 

"I didn't want to put this on you."

"Walker," I say, "you can put everything on me. Anything you have to carry, I want to carry it with you. Part of being with someone is knowing that you never have to try to deal with anything alone."

He smiles and nods slightly. Then his face changes as he has another thought.

"Do you know what happened?" he asks. 

"Yeah," I reply. 

"How?"

"Your dad came looking for you. He's really worried."

Walker shakes his head. "He doesn't care about me. He would care about me if I were straight, but not the way I am now. He just wants me to change."

"I think he changed his mind," I say. 

"What do you mean? He hates gay people. He thinks they're an abomination or whatever."

"He said your mom talked to him a lot. I'm not sure exactly what happened to make him see things differently, and I'm not sure if he's done a complete 180, but he did say he'd rather have you alive than a straight you dead."

Walker stays silent, pondering over this information. 

"I think we should go talk to him," I say. 

Walker looks up. "We?"

"Yes," I confirm. "Always we. You never have to do anything on your own as long as I'm here."

He smiles, then he takes in a shuddering breath. Neither of us want to mention the truth of the matter: I won't be here in three days. 

"Okay," Walker agrees.

___________________________________

**Walker's POV**

 

Jonah and I walk up to his house hand in hand. After ascending the steps to the porch, he looks over at me.

"Do you want to let me go?" he asks.

I shake my head. "He already knows."  _I also don't know if I'll be able to even breathe if Jonah's not with me._

Jonah nods, and I squeeze the door handle and push it open, letting it swing away from me rather than following it right away. Jonah's hand clasps mine firmer, which gives me the confidence to step inside. Nobody is waiting when we enter, but I hear my mom's voice shouting from the kitchen.

"Hello?"

"It's me, Mom," I return. 

She steps into the living room, stunned. A second later, she calls up to the second floor.

"Scott!"

I think my mom can sense my fear, because she walks up and hugs me, and I hug her back with my one arm that isn't permanently locked with Jonah's. 

Then my dad's image appears in my peripheral vision, and I step back and stare at him. He stays silent for a moment as he takes in the two boys holding hands before him. Jonah must realize that I'm shaking, because he carefully removes his hand from mine and brings his arm around my shoulders to steady me, and it works as it usually does. His arm around me always calms my nerves at least a little bit. 

"Walker," my dad starts, "I'm sorry." My silence forces him to continue by attempting to explain himself. "I grew up with people teaching me that this is wrong. A long discussion with your mother here made me think that maybe they didn't know everything about this. Walker, I don't understand this and how you can have feelings like that for this boy . . . but I'm going to try to learn. I just need you to be patient with me."

Part of me wants to say no, say that he was never patient with anyone on this topic before, so why should I give him my patience now? Why should I forgive him for making me terrified to speak around him for years? But the other part of me, the part that feels Jonah's warmth around me right now, is just soft enough to want a relationship with my father. That part of me knows that I am lucky to have this chance when so many other kids don't. 

"Okay," I breathe. 

My dad nods, staying where he his. 

Then Jonah's arm slides away, and I rush up to hug my dad. He hugs me back. Me—not some fake version of me that I've been hiding behind. He hugs me. 

"Thank you," I hear him whisper over my shoulder to Jonah. 

_____________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

 

I shove the last of last of my things into the trunk of my parents' vehicle. This is it. I'm leaving, and I won't be able to see my grandparents, nor Walker again until the next time I come, and who knows when that will be. 

"Are you ready to go?" my dad asks. 

I look out at the trees which separate the neighbours' house from my grandparents'. Walker and I said our goodbyes last night, because I figured I'd rather not have to explain our relationship to my parents, but now I wish I could see him one more time before I go. 

"Uh . . . yeah, I guess."

My parents nod and climb into the car. Right as I open the door to the backseat, I hear a voice behind me.

"Jonah!" 

I spin around, immediately forgetting about the open door as I run up to him and take throw my arms over his neck. I no longer care about my parents watching. I just care about this boy who made my heart numb in a matter of weeks. He holds me tight against him, and I take in what might be the last time I'll ever be close enough to him to smell the Old Spice. _I wonder if I'll forget this scent once I'm gone._

I loosen my grip just enough to bring my face back to kiss him softly, letting this moment create its own heat for us to breathe in. When our lips divide, I keep my eyes on him, studying every detail of his face once more in an attempt to burn the image into my mind, though it's hard to see clearly through my tears, which are mirrored by his own. 

"I'm going to miss you so much," I say in a voice so weak you'd think the wind would be able to blow it away like sand on a beach. 

"Me too," Walker responds. 

He pulls me into another hug, and I melt into his embrace.

"I love you," I utter. "I haven't told you that yet, but I should've."

His voice is a whisper, but it's loud in my ears as he says, "I love you more."

"I doubt that," I respond.

We both laugh a little as we let each other go. 

"I need to leave now," I say, making both of our smiles disappear. 

"Yeah," he says. 

Neither of us do anything more, yet it still takes me another minute before I manage to tear myself away from the ground in front of him and go back to my parents' car. My eyes stay on him as I close myself inside the vehicle and as the car rolls onto the road. I watch him until the trees cut off the sight of my boyfriend—or my former boyfriend—standing on the edge of the road with tears streaming down his cheeks. 

"I assume you'll explain that at some point," my mother says from the driver's seat. 

"Yeah," I respond, "but not now."

She nods and continues to focus out on the road. Both of my parents stay quiet while I stare out at the open fields as we pass them by. 

 _Paint the fields to uncover the Earth._  Grandpa didn't mention that once I've uncovered the Earth, it would hurt so much to let it go. It hurts to know that I found something amazing that I can't take with me. 

And while the gravel rumbles the car which drives father and farther away from the boy I told myself I wouldn't fall in love with, I feel something snap inside of me. A cord, one I didn't know even existed until now, has been stretched to its limit, and the connection of him to me has severed, giving me a sense of dull peace, as though my entire body finally understands that his won't be next to it anymore. Although the cord is broken, I can still feel the electricity jumping around its torn end, only now that spark has nowhere to go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished writing this and was like "Oh, this is actually, like, sad." So yeah, this is kinda sad. But there's one more part, so we'll se what happens with that. I will have that part up today too. I love you! Bye!


	10. Chapter 10

**Jonah's POV**

 

Grant high school is big, and the people here are intimidating, making me glad to have my friends with me as we stand outside the building. 

"Are you guys ready for our first day of high school?" Andi asks the group. 

"I'm excited to join every team there is and beat everyone on it," Buffy says. 

"I'm not sure that's how teams work," Andi responds. "I'm pretty sure you're supposed to work with them to beat other teams."

"Yeah, whatever."

"What about you, Cyrus?" Andi asks. 

He glances back as TJ approaches him, and TJ puts his arm around the shorter boy.

"What's up, Underdog?" TJ says. 

"Now I'm ready," Cyrus tells Andi. 

Suddenly, I see something—someone—in the crowd behind TJ and Cyrus. His face clicks in my mind in an instant, and, before I can stop myself, I'm pushing through my friends and running. His eyes are on me as the crowd of kids splits, clearing the way for me to sprint up and throw my arms over his neck. He lifts me up and spins me around before setting me down, and I notice the kids around us watching curiously. Tears flow from both of our eyes as we stay in each other's arms for a moment longer before we separate.

"Am I seeing things or is this really you?" I ask, touching his face to make sure he's real. 

Walker smiles, creating the perfect juxtaposition of happiness and wet streaks on his face. 

"I wanted it to be a surprise," he says. "My aunt is letting me stay with her so that I can be here in Shadyside."

More tears break from my eyes, and I look down to cry, but Walker's hand lifts my chin up gently.

"I love you so much," I confess. 

"Good thing," he says. "I did move states for you."

He smiles as I laugh a little. Then he brings his lips to mine, and it feels like we're back in Oklahoma in the middle of the prairies, but we're not. We're here, and this can last. Inside of me, the snapped cord stitches itself back together, and the spark finds its pathway from me to him again as cheering erupts from the audience around us. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! I ended up liking this story a lot more than I had expected, and now I actually do ship Wonah. Before it was just a crackship for me, but this is real as Irby now for me. Thank you all for sticking with me and reading! I love you all! Goodbye!


End file.
